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Thank you for all the messages and thank you to all of you who have opted to follow me. In this and for subsequent chapters I have changed the name of the masseuse for reasons of confidentiality.
I think that I am becoming a little bit of an exhibitionist. If this is the case, I probably shouldn’t be surprised given my history and those memorable afternoons of my bestie Sam in being in a more or less permanently undressed state when we were around each other at her house, and Helen and I’s habit of spending our downtime in nothing more than a tee shirt.
I have never been shy about covering myself up, but over the last six months or so I have found myself seeking ways to put myself on display.
The first time that this manifested itself was when I went to get a waxing. This was actually a birthday present for Helen. I know that she likes me to be hairless (although that said, I have been shaving for a long time), and I thought it would be a real treat for her to find me super smooth.
It took me a little while to find somewhere relatively local that would do the job and remove everything (which I now understand is called a ‘Hollywood’), and I also had to find a way of explaining to Helen why I was letting my pubes grow out a little bit which has to be done for the waxing to be effective. I got around this by telling her that I just wanted to feel what it was like for a change, but it did feel slightly weird when you are used to a stubble free cunt.
Anyway, I got the appointment made for the day before Helen’s birthday when I knew she would be at the end of a week of nights, and duly turned up for the job.
I would put the lady doing the waxing in her early to mid 30’s and she was very professional, and that became quite frustrating. She was extremely friendly and very likeable, and I had an overwhelming desire to really put myself out there.
She explained the process, (particularly as I had not had it done before) and how to look after myself afterwards (nothing more than an application or two of aloe vera), and that although it would sting a bit, it wouldn’t hurt as much as I might be expecting.
It’s not that I was turned on — in fact the opposite was probably the case as I was a bit concerned about my pain threshold, but I went out of my way to almost exaggerate the positions she wanted me in, and made every effort to fully expose my loose slot. I know for sure that by the time she was finished my lips were gaping and I desperately wanted her to give them some attention, but she was proficient to the end and avoided any unnecessary touches.
I had got my bottom half stripped off very quickly and stood there with my legs slightly apart as she talked me through the process, and when she got me to hop up onto the table I made absolutely sure that she could see everything I had before she started.
I couldn’t have displayed myself more and derived a lot of elicit pleasure from her stares and manipulation of me and I was on the verge of masturbating myself in front of her at the completion of the waxing, but the signs were that this wouldn’t have gone down very well. As it was, I bought myself off furiously when I got home.
I was practically dripping when the opportunity came to show Helen one of her presents. We had eaten out as it was her birthday, and when we got home, I stripped off in the bathroom while Helen was getting changed (with the excuse that I just wanted to freshen up as Helen would normally expect me to get changed with her).
I came downstairs with just a towel around me, and presented myself to her by standing in front of the sofa where she was sitting and asked if she would like her other present. Her answer was “absolutely,” and so I simply loosened the towel and let it slip off and stepped forward a little so that my silky smooth gash was just a few inches from her face.
I then took her hand and guided towards my slick lips. It was immediately evident that she could feel the difference and the net effect of this was that she couldn’t leave me alone. A lot of fingering was followed by the longest and most through lickings I can remember.
The second occasion was moderately more successful. A week or two beforehand, I had pulled my back a little bit in training. Although it wasn’t what I would call an injury, it was certainly uncomfortable and at the time I figured that with a small training layoff, it would heal itself. However, it persisted a bit and as a result, and following a couple of recommendations, I got myself booked in for a sports massage.
The place was at an alternative medicine centre which seemed to offer a range of treatments including hypnotherapy, acupuncture, osteopathy etc.
As I have said, the individual doing the sports massage had been recommended to me by at least two colleagues, and I found myself in front of a lithe looking lady of indeterminate age, who introduced herself as Lizzie. She had a lovely fresh complexion and was kitted out in a white polo shirt and what looked like illegal bahis leggings, but not quite as tight.
We went through the usual diagnosis of what I had done and where I was tender, and she then asked me to strip off. I asked her if she wanted everything off or just outer clothes, and she told me it was up to me and what ever I would feel comfortable with, but she said that she would be able to feel my spine better without a bra.
I was feeling good about myself, so I removed everything. She had me sit on the massage table for a bit while she ran her fingers up and down my spine and around my sacroiliac joint. She then asked me to lie face down and got to work.
Although I should have been focussed on the treatment, I had an irresistible urge to display myself, so I began by parting my thighs. This didn’t have quite the effect that I had hoped for, mainly because she was at my side, but eventually she moved to stand behind me, leaning in to reach the small of my back.
I half expected her to move my legs a little to reduce my thigh gap, but she didn’t, so after a couple of minutes, I spread myself further.
She had been talking to me throughout, but her voice was becoming very slightly shaky, and I was trying hard to imagine what the view would be like for her.
She was complimenting me on my gluteus maximus, medius and quads so it was clear to me that she was at least looking.
After a good half hour, she said that she was nearly done, and asked me to turn over. I did this, and she carried on talking about what she had done and potential future treatment. After a minute or two, it suddenly became clear to me that she could (and probably should) have been having this conversation with me sitting down post massage, but her real objective was to look me over.
I decided to help, and did probably the most outrageous thing which was either going to get me thrown out, or establish her interest. I flopped the lower end of my legs over the sides of the table.
It was fairly blatant, but the effect was worth it. She was either braless under the polo shirt or had impressive nipples. Either way, it was clear to see that they were stiffening. She had very small tits but there was no mistaking the fact that she was getting aroused, and there appeared to be a degree of flushing around her neck.
If I wasn’t sure before, in my mind, her next, probably unnecessary action proved it to me. She said in a quiet voice, ‘er, could you do something for me?’
‘Sure,’ I responded. I wondered what was coming, half expecting some immoral request, but she was rather more subtle that that.
‘Can you sit up on the table so I can feel your spine properly.,’ she asked.
I pulled myself up and sat with my legs overhanging the side of the table. ‘Just back a bit’ she motioned, and showed me where she wanted me. This put me more or less in the middle of the table, and she lifted each of my ankles up and placed them immediately in front of my thighs.
If you try this, you will realise that you can’t do it without spreading your thighs, and I was conscious that I was almost obscenely on display. Moreover, she kept up the pretence, leaning in to place her hands to run them slowly up, and back down my spine.
She did this twice, and then stepped back. I didn’t move.
My fuck flaps were open — there was a distinct gap between them, and I could feel an extremely pleasurable degree of moisture gathering around my frenulum, which was very slowly dripping down to my perineum.
I would have sold myself for her to do something to me, and I was as turned on as hell. She took another discreet but knowing look, and said I could get dressed if I wished.
I stood up and asked if she had a tissue, and she handed me one from the box on her desk.
I took the tissue and used it to gently and carefully clean up the goo that had accumulated around my girly bits, and looked around for a bin.
The masseuse held out her hand and took the tissue from me. In what was almost a statement of intent, instead of throwing it in the bin, she slowly closed her hand around it and held onto it while she casually watched me put my underwear back on, and then dropped it into the bin.
I was on a little bit of a high and was bursting to get somewhere where I could strum myself.
We did the paperwork, agreed a treatment plan and I handed over my credit card. As I was about to depart, she said ‘I do do treatments from home if it’s easier for you, you know for time and things.’
I got the gist of it in an instant, and she pulled a business card out of her drawer which was different from the one that she had handed me when she had introduced herself, and said ‘rather than make an appointment now, call me when you are ready and we’ll get something organised to suit you.’
We shook hands and I walked out of her studio with slightly shaking legs, and her nipples still poking out of that polo shirt.
I had lectures in the afternoon, and I didn’t really have illegal bahis siteleri time to go home, so I made my way to Uni, headed straight to the ladies and twanged myself to a very energetic orgasm. I loved the position that she had put me in on the table to supposedly feel my spine, and throughout my much needed self masturbation session, I was trying to visualise the image I had presented to her sitting there with my knees up, thighs spread and lengthy slot fully exposed.
By the time I got home, I was still in a state of sexual arousal, and my mind full of filthy thoughts, and I knew for sure that Helen was going to have to really go to work on me tonight.
By the time Helen got home, I was ravenous. I somehow managed to refrain from bringing myself off again, but I did get myself warmed up by a self fisting in front of the mirror in our bedroom. It didn’t take much — the stickiness in my fuckbox soon turned to a more slippery consistency and my hand went in without much in the way of foreplay. However, I resisted the orgasm that I was gagging for, and instead went for a search through Helen’s toy drawer.
In amongst the familiar playthings, my eyes rested on a black coloured beast that I could only recall Helen using two or three times.
Even by my standards this was a hefty thing. Around eighteen inches long and too big to fit into my hand, it tapered in thickness as it got longer. I couldn’t quite get my hand round the tip part, and at the base it was substantially bigger and even using two hands, my fingers wouldn’t meet.
I decided there and then that this was the one I wanted to be used on me, and left it standing on its base on the bedside table.
I was lying on our bed, legs akimbo and lazily stroking my sloppy slit so that when Helen came up stairs she would be under no illusion that I was in need to some pleasuring.
She stood and watched me hungrily for a few minutes, teasing me with a fairly erotic unclothing of herself, and tried (unsuccessfully) to make small talk. Having given up with the small talk, she asked me what had brought this on.
I told her that I had been for my massage, and that the masseuse really seemed to like my cunt, and I included the bit where she had positioned me in a sitting position on the table at the end of the massage.
‘You need to take me Helen,’ I told her. ‘I’m so fucking ready to be properly stretched.’
Helen’s eyes fell onto the gargantuan dildo on the bedside table.
‘With this?’ Helen asked.
‘Well that’s going to need some preparation,’ Helen declared. ‘I think that’s probably my biggest and I’ve only taken it myself a few times.’
‘I don’t care,’ I replied. ‘Just make me take it.’
‘I’m going to need some assistance if you’re serious about this one. Are you sure you’re up for it?’
Whilst not remotely concerned, I was mildly curious by what Helen meant by ‘assistance’.
She had moved around to the wardrobe, opened the door, and after a few seconds of rummaging, reappeared with the spreader bar that Sam and I had used on her during a couple of memorable evenings.
‘I’m going to need to keep your legs spread for this big boy while I concentrate on working it into you. Are you sure you still want it?’
‘Definitely — I’m ready for it,’ I grunted. I allowed Helen to attach my ankles to the spreader bar, tapping my clit as she did so.
‘This is a Super Victor,’ Helen informed me, ‘I think it’s about as big as you can get and I’m going to love getting this all the way in and seeing your girly hole stretched round it, but you are going to have to tell me if it starts to hurt you. Promise?’
‘Promise,’ I heard myself say.
Helen’s Super Victor is an abnormally large thing. I haven’t measured it but it is around 14 to 15 centimetres in diameter (although you wouldn’t get it in quite that far so the widest insertable width is more like 12½, and it’s probably about 40 centimetres long. It’s also heavy as I discovered when I extracted it from the drawer.
It is therefore not the kind of thing that’s just going to slip into you, even for a girl of my dimensions.
Helen must have spent an hour, or maybe even longer on me. It was a long work up, and involved her hands, and two pretty large dildo’s used one after the other to prepare me for the Super Victor.
It should have been memorable for the first time that I had been able to take both of Helen’s hands at the same time. It should also have been memorable for what was probably the first time that Helen was able to push her hand into me in a closed fist. I was sure that I was as loose as I had ever been, and I was gagging for the enormous toy, in fact pleading for it.
The trouble was that despite a prolonged effort by Helen, I was unable to take the whole dildo. I think that Helen got somewhere between two thirds and three quarters into me, and try as we might (and I tried very hard, believe me), I could not get the widest part into me.
This was for a combination canlı bahis siteleri of reasons — it was a long way in, and therefore pushing against my cervix which whilst not unpleasant was a sign that it wasn’t going to go in much further, but the entrance to my vagina was stretched like an elastic band and actually was becoming uncomfortable.
I willed Helen to keep going, almost begging her to continue but she was trying to let me down gently, and was adamant that I couldn’t take it all yet.
She went on to say that she wasn’t sure it was meant for that hole, and was probably designed for ass stretching.
I hadn’t thought of that and asked Helen if that was where she had taken it. She was a little bit quite for a moment or two and then looking at me with what I can only describe as pure unadulterated lust, said ‘actually, I’ve taken it in both’.
I moaned with envy, and decided there and then that this was something I had to see. However, Helen had other ideas. ‘Not tonight my gorgeous and cunty little pet’, she said. ‘I need to eat, and that’s a job for a weekend’.
Although I had been on the edge of a very big orgasm for quite a while, I hadn’t actually cum yet. It put a whole new slant on ‘edging’ for me, but I needed the release and I definitely couldn’t wait until later.
Helen cautiously removed the dildo from me, and brought me to a crashing climax, using one hand in my ruined cunt hole and two fingers from the other in my ass. Helen had had the foresight to put a folded towel underneath me before starting with the giant insertion, and it was just as well because it was an abnormally wet and messy cum.
Helen prepared some pasta for us which went down particularly well, and I had promised to repay Helen when we went to bed, but I am embarrassed to admit that I fell asleep and slept very soundly.
The best part of a week had gone by, but I couldn’t get the sensation of being naked in front of, and manipulated by the delightful Lizzie out of my mind.
In truth, my back was feeling quite a bit better, but my deviant nature kept wondering if there was more to be gained from a follow-up visit.
I put it off for another week and probably went to dial her up about half a dozen times before I finally got the courage up to do it.
I rang the studio, but frustratingly it went to a messaging service so I left a message along the lines of ‘Hi, this is Andrea. I’m not sure if you will remember me, but you had a good look at my back a couple of weeks ago, and I think it might be worth having it checked again.’ I left my number and then ended up not being quite sure whether I wanted her to return my call or not!
At the end of that afternoon, she called me back. ‘Hi Andrea’, she said breezily. ‘How have you been? Sorry I couldn’t take answer your call, but thanks for the message, and I’ve got my diary in front of me.
‘Great’, I replied, wondering how to approach this.
‘I guess the question is, do you want to see me here, or would a home visit be more convenient for you? Perhaps it will depend on your time and availability’.
‘Well’, I hesitated, early evening might be better for me, after Uni, but I don’t have lectures every day’.
‘I can do Monday, Tuesday and Thursday evenings until eight, or all day on a Wednesday if you would prefer my home studio’.
We settled on an 11:00am appointment the following Wednesday and she told me where it was which was a short distance from the alternative therapy centre.
I couldn’t keep it from Helen, so I mentioned over dinner that evening that I was going back to see the masseuse to see if I needed any follow-up treatment.
‘What sort of treatment do you have in mind?’ she asked with a cheeky grin on her face. ‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall.’
I was very non-committal, but I had to admit that she did have a certain appeal.
I was ravenous again that evening which resulted in some hardcore filthy dirty sex between Helen and I, and by way of a change, I spent most of our session concentrating my play on Helen’s ass. Helen’s back hole is wonderfully elastic and is able to accommodate length and girth, and I spent 45 minutes to an hour fisting her out.
It’s a fantastically depraved feeling as I can get so deep into her, and feeling her sphincter gripping my forearm is downright erotic.
On the night before I was due to revisit Lizzie, Helen took it upon herself to tease me mercifully. She had already got four fingers in me (which is now very easy to do and acts as a good precursor to bigger things later) when she started muttering ‘you just want this girl to see your big slack cunt don’t you?’ and you’re going to show her your big womanly cunt on your young womanly body aren’t you?’
The trouble was, it was true, and both Helen and I knew it. ‘Well let’s give her something to look at then,’ she said, and proceeded to give a serious working out. By now she had her whole hand in me, and was using her other to alternately caress my clit and perineum, and occasionally brushing my butt hole.
After a large and delightfully wet orgasm, Helen persuaded me that I should sleep with the dildo pants on, and wear them until I was due to leave for my appointment, not that I needed much encouragement.
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